Returning to Sana’a felt like dropping a fish back into water. Even in war, Sana’a called to me. Since 2015, I have dreamt of walking in the busy market in the heart of the city, sitting under the stained glass with friends, and listening to Abu Baker Salem with my grandmother.
Despite my desperation to return, I spent the days leading to my trip filled with dread. Following a coup of the capital by the Houthis in 2014, the Saudi-led coalition lead a military intervention in Yemen to restore power to the internationally recognized government. This turned a local conflict into an international one that dragged on for years with civilians paying the heaviest costs.
Under the Saudi blockade, only a select few flights were allowed into Sana’a leading to a chaotic process with high costs. More worrying than the trip itself was the thought of witnessing the newfound destruction. In my eyes, Sana’a was always joyful. Full of youthful memories of running around the old city with beaten soccer balls and weddings filled with colourful dresses and sonorous songs.
Yet, it was now also the home to one of the largest humanitarian crises in the world. Hospitals, weddings, even school buses have been bombed throughout the bloody conflict in which civilians were fair game. Rather than mere war, Yemenis are stuck under the weight of collective punishment via the Saudi-led bombing campaign, fully sanctioned by the Western nations selling weapons to Saudi Arabia.
Since my last time in the capital, the country has changed significantly. The war left its mark with 80 percent of the country requiring humanitarian assistance. A reality that was clearly reflected in the faces of those around me.
Growing up, it was common to see beggars on the street. It was uncommon to see this many though. For many of them to include young men.
Due to central bank divisions, the people of Sana’a have had to rely on cash that after years of not being replaced was basically torn paper. Rising inflation meant more torn paper was necessary for even basic purchases. This economic element of the war is often not discussed, but it has hindered economic expansion.
Despite the poverty and significant challenges facing the country, the changes I witnessed were not all for bad.
Yemenis have carved new spaces out for themselves, especially the women, and many new businesses were opening partly due to the expansion of Sana’a itself. Prior to 2015, the population of Sana’a was 3 million. It is now 7 million. Recognizing that Sana’a is the safest part of the country for civilians, many moved to the city bringing with them new businesses and ideas.
The capital remained safe. During prayer times, street merchants would leave their goods unattended, not concerned that anyone would take them in their absence. Any danger faced stemmed from war, not petty crime. A comforting continuation of strong social values among the population.
The most shocking of the changes though was from my own peers: women were now running their own businesses. As a teenage girl in Yemen, there was not much public space available for us. Most social time was spent in someone’s home, but now there were female only cafes. Within a gender segregated society, these spaces offer women economic, social, and cultural enrichment among peers and a valuable break from the pressures of war.
These cafes were fully staffed and owned by women and offered third spaces for women to socialize and even learn. Oftentimes, these cafes would also offer opportunities for professional advancement either with computer courses or office spaces. All while serving fresh juice and pastries.
The style of cafe varied from more western with outside patios and loaded fries to traditional ground seating and chai, but what remained the same was the patronage: women. Women of all ages were able to congregate comfortably. The cafes would have designated spaces for children with mini playgrounds so the mothers could socialize or work freely.
While in public, Yemeni women often wear the niqab, a face covering, women took them off in the cafes due to the all-female patronage. And many stopped wearing them all together.
Growing up in Yemen, I was part of the minority that only wore the hijab— not the niqab. Now, only around 50 percent of women in Sana’a wear the niqab. And the niqab itself has changed. Rather than long black fabric, women often wear short ones, sometimes even white.
While almost all women still wear abayas, a modest robe, they are now more decorated and colourful. In response to this trend, the Houthis threatened to burn the abaya off anyone who wears a colourful one. So, Yemeni women started wearing more colourful abayas.
This represents a trend across Yemen: the restriction of rights comes with pushback due to a strong social fabric, which Yemeni women weaponize to their advantage. Knowing that in our culture a man cannot touch a woman they are unrelated to, women are able to wear their preferred abaya without fear.
This game of cat and mouse extended to most restrictions on women that the Houthis attempted to impose. They stated that Sana’a University should be gender segregated, then female students protested and the implementation was nullified within the same day.
The empowerment of women as seen through the rise of this new cafe culture is emblematic of a trend across Yemen: women charting their own path forward, regardless of economic or political restraints. Women are actively advocating for further integration in public, professional, and educational spaces.
However, the longer this war continues, the more the social fabric that protects women is frayed. Yemenis are more than capable of advocating for themselves, but militaristic intervention by external actors is leaving less space for Yemenis themselves.
During one of my last days in Sana’a, a boy no older than twelve attempted to sell me spices with much confidence. His passionate pitch of the different dishes I was sure to make with one small bag of mixed spices made me laugh, so I offered him the money without wanting anything in return. He refused me. Told me he was not a beggar and went on his way.
In ripped clothing and no shoes, he held his head high and he rejected me. In the same way Yemenis reject anything they deem demeaning. Whether it be foreign interventions, bad domestic policies, or misguided pity, Yemenis are still charting their own path forward.
It is now up to the international community to decide if they want to give Yemenis the space to continue this work. To acknowledge the diverse experiences existing on the ground. To pursue a policy of peace that will build the climate necessary for internal negotiations. Under war, women are already charting new paths forward. I wonder what they will be capable of during times of peace.
Image Credit: Saif Albadni/Upsplash